


Rites of Life

by Nonia



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonia/pseuds/Nonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili learns what it means to kill in order to protect his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rites of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Reponse for the Hobbit Kink-meme:
> 
> The first time Fili killed someone was to protect Kili. Please no incest.

_**Rites of Life** _

 

Many a rite and milestone would a Dwarf find themselves living through. 

 

Some dictated by nature; the growth of a beard, the thickening of a voice. 

 

Others would be dictated by tradition; the receiving of an emblem upon birth, the learning of runes. 

 

Others more would be dictated by circumstance; the blessing for a journey, a first injury. 

 

Thorin II Oakenshield would ensure his line would follow the rites and traditions of Erebor, even if the Mountain had been lost. For in keeping them alive, he kept the hope of returning alive. 

 

Some traditions; however, he wished they would learn of from lore rather than experience; such as the rites of losing a loved one, or the experience of a first kill. 

 

*****

 

Fili blearily glared at the morning sun. His mother often jokingly said his gruff demeanour and voice was very alike that of his uncle’s so early in the morning, which in turn was very alike that of a bear. He adjusted the straps for his dual sword and huffed into the cold air while glaring at Dwalin, his patrol leader for the next week. 

 

He did not mind the patrols, he minded when they started to mind-numbingly early in the morn. 

 

Dwalin was sorting their route with the previous patrol and Fili closed his eyes, it was not his first patrol, nor his brother’s. And he allowed himself a moment of irritation as Kili’s voice rang out in the dreary morning, laughing at some joke one of the others in the previous patrol had said. 

 

Fili straightened as Dwalin announced they were off and the band of five dwarves took off. Both sister-sons of Thorin had resigned themselves to the fact that if they were to be a part of the warriors and guards of the Blue Mountains at all, it would be by their Uncle’s standards, and thus they were now used to only the most experiences of warriors accompanying them on their patrols. 

 

Even in his morning grump, Fili could not find it in himself to mind Dwalin’s company, and the other two were Dwarves he had heard of by reputation, they were hardy and brave and honourable Dwarves. 

 

Kili, of course, was hovering around ‘Mr. Dwalin’ already asking questions about their route and Fili was once again amazed and amused by Kili’s ability to treat everything as a novelty, even though these patrols have become routine to them. 

 

As the day progressed, so did Fili’s mood, despite the promise of horrid weather, the patrol was shaping to be a pleasing one. They had spent the night under the stars and one of the other Dwarves who was quite the master-storyteller entertained with tales of wonder and fantasy, refusing to retell tales of battles, for they were not for the night under the skies without the stone at their backs. 

 

The next day had been spent much of the same, Dwalin taking the chance to hone skills in the boys by making them hunt, scout, track and fetch food. All three older Dwarves amused at how the younger ones did not mind the tasks on patrol, but would oft complain of not being lackeys while doing tasks asked of them while in the stone of the Mountain. 

 

The path of their patrol took them to the outskirts of the forest surrounding the Blue Mountains where they were meet with another patrol. Their own circle the perimeter to the east whilst the other would circle about the west. 

 

The meeting of the patrols at the edge was usually one heralded by many a greeting and laughter; however, it was a quiet morbid patrol that had met them. For they warned of bandits of the race of men who had heard that the line of Durin lived in the Blue Mountains and were convinced that some of the gold of Erebor had been taken to the Blue Mountains with them upon their forced exodus. 

 

The news led to a sombre night and both Kili and Fili did not fail to notice when Dwalin insisted on taking his meals and sit between them. 

 

They also did not fail to notice the raven Dwalin had sent to the Mountain. 

 

The morning found them breaking up earlier than usual and Dwalin declaring that they were taking the shorter patrol route back to the mountain and another would take their old route. 

 

Neither Fili’s heated arguments not Kili’s outbursts would sway Dwalin who refused to hear their arguments, he had vowed to keep the line of Durin safe and safe he would keep them, regardless of whether they were happy with him whilst he did it or not. 

 

And so it was a frowning Fili and subdued Kili who marched between Dwalin and the other two. Breaking camp that night found them near a river, Kili and Fili had taken the water skins to refill and Dwalin would later wonder at how such a thing as a water skin would be an ever present reminder of sorrow in his mind. 

 

Fili filled his water skin first, and Kili was kneeling over the water when the first sound of an arrow whistling by their heads sounded and they saw the shaft land into the water. Instantly alert and drawing their swords they were suddenly overcome by a band of men. 

 

Asked later, Fili would not remember the beginning of the battle, he remembered the jarring of his blade against flesh and armour and earth, and the smell of blood and sweat and man. 

 

But if asked of the following moment, he would remember it all. He would remember Kili’s startled yell. He would remember Dwalin’s roar in the background as he fought his way towards them. He remember the agonised cry of the other two Dwarves as they were cut down. 

 

He would remember the blade held against Kili’s neck cutting into the sweat-dampened skin as Kili swallowed. The man’s outfit stood clearly in his mind, armour of Gondor and embroidery of Rohan. There were loose threads in the tunic showing under the armour. One of Kili’s arrows jutted out from the man’s thigh. The shaft bent and broken from where Kili had tried to make the man let go by jerking the arrow. The coppery smell of blood wafted towards him. 

 

There was a small tear in his younger brother’s archer glove. There was a slight tremor in his hand. Kili favoured his left knee now, an old injury that must have been hit again. He remembered every shift in Kili’s muscles. Every moment, every aborted movement to keep himself from being beheaded.

 

There was a tendril of hair sticking to Kili’s lashes. 

 

A drop of sweat and blood from the gash on his head slid down Kili’s face and into his stubble. 

 

He had needed Dwalin to tell him the events that would follow. Fili had roared a battle cry the likes of which had not been heard since Azanulbizar and the man had been startled enough to jerk back and give Kili another slight cut. 

 

The movement seemed to spur Fili on who had leapt and lodged his sword into the man’s side, pulled his brother free and impaling his other sword into the man’s skull. 

 

Three times, according to Kili. 

 

By then the fight had been done, the men fled in the face of the combined berserker rage of Dwalin and Fili. 

 

Kili tentatively touched Fili’s shoulder. For his brother now stared at the man, leaning against his sword, supporting himself with a double-gripped hold onto the sword’s pommel, the blade was still imbedded in the man’s skull. He was gazing blankly at what had remained of the man’s head. Mouth open as if still yelling but not sound echoed forth. 

 

The heir of Durin was shivering and his movement caused the carcass to move as well. Kili made a choked sound and tried again to touch Fili but could not look away from the morbid sight of the head that shook and shivered with his brother. 

 

Dwalin, realising the situation, quickly gripped Kili by the arm and led him to the water commanding him to wash. Dazedly, Kili had dropped by the water and mindlessly followed instructions.

 

More concerned with the one that was still sitting on the corpse for the moment, Dwalin gently but firmly pried Fili’s hands from the pommel and let the shaking hands grip his own. He placed them upon his tunic, allowing them to grip the cloth before jerking Fili’s chin towards himself and forcing the lad to break his gaze. 

 

Fili’s eyes were wide as he stared at Dwalin who gently shook him, “You alright, laddie?” nodding in a daze Fili staggered to his feet and away from the corpse only to fall onto his knees by the river bank, a few steps away from his brother as he retched and heaved his breakfast. 

 

Scrambling to his brother’s side Kili tried to hold Fili’s hair back only to have his brother jerk away from him, any further attempts to get near Fili were stopped by Dwalin who had sent a raven asking for a patrol to come clean up and retrieve the bodies of their the two downed Dwarves who had accompanied them. 

 

Dwalin forced Kili to look him in the eye and said, “To pack up our gear, we head for the mountain.”

 

Choking a sound of protest Dwalin gave him a gentle shove, “Give yer brother room to breathe, go.”

 

Nodding Kili sprinted to the camp allowing Dwalin to kneel by Fili. He placed an anchoring hand on Fili’s heated neck and said, “You saved your little brother, laddie.”

 

As expected, hearing mention of his brother brought Fili back from his retching and shivering, “Where…?” he asked, a slight panic clouding his voice. 

 

Hauling Fili to his feet Dwalin said steadily, “Sorting out our things, come, laddie. We head for the mountain.”

 

He skirted Fili around the bodies of the men, retrieving Fili’s swords he did not allow the younger Dwarf to gaze at the corpse for long, roughly reminding him, “You saved your brother.”

 

Kili had greeted Fili with a tight embrace and Dwalin did not begrudge them their closeness. They walked to the Mountain at a hurried pace, Fili more than once pausing to retch and Kili near tears with worry. Dwalin kept himself a steady solid presence, pushing them towards the mountain steadily. 

 

There would be enough time to reflect, and break and mature and learn from this experience once they were safely in the stone. 

 

Dwalin was relieved to see the raven had arrived when the lads and himself approached the Mountain. 

 

Thorin awaited outside along with Dis. Fili had been grabbed and hugged and Kili fussed over before the pair were embraced by their Uncle who ordered them to bathe and rest and that he would require their presence later in the day. 

 

Too tired and overwhelmed to speak, both had nodded, and Dis, wrapped an arm around each of theirs had led them inside. 

 

At the door, Thorin looked at Dwalin and asked, “How does he cope?”

 

Dwalin shook his head, “Neither have spoke since it happened. Fili would not speak of his first kill and Kili looks like he would rather retch that hear of it.”

 

Thorin nodded then lent his forehead against Dwalin’s, a silent gesture in gratitude for bringing them home, and as they walked inside he asked, “Tell me the details.”

 

And so Dwalin told him of the details, and he saw Thorin’s pride at his sister-sons’ battle prowess and sorrow at their ordeal. 

 

So Thorin left his oldest friend to prepare the rites for his sister-son. It was the second time he found himself wishing his sister-sons would learn a rite from lore rather than experience. 

 

The first had been the death rites of their Da, and now they would learn of the Vigil.

A Dwarf who had his first soul-kill, one of a sentient being, would not be permitted to be isolated on his first day under the stone after the deed. 

 

Fili would sit with kith and kin in the common room, and would be surrounded by those who loved him and appreciated him. He would be allowed and encouraged to reflect, and think and speak and weep and sing and drink, and others would tell of their stories and first soul-kills and Vigils when they thought and spoke and wept and sung and drank, and upon the morrow, his nearest and dearest would take him to his rooms and allow him to rest, and Dis would smother him with love and Kili would cling to him and keep the nightmares away and Thorin would tell him he was proud and sorry that he had to learn this lesson. 

 

And Fili would mature because of this, and gain strength knowing he had kith and kin to support him, and would remember this day and his Vigil when he killed in battle again, to defend his brother, and his uncle, and his uncle’s Mountain. 

Only this time, there would be no Vigil for him, but the death rites of old.


End file.
